


Cover My Eyes

by Brytewolf (brytewolf)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Hurt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-15
Updated: 2011-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-14 19:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brytewolf/pseuds/Brytewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When I see you walking with her/I have to cover my eyes/Every time you leave with her/Something inside me dies</p><p>What is it like, to love someone you can never touch, because they are already in love with another? Jim's been living that nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cover My Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** This is inspired by the song "Cover My Eyes" by La Roux – lyrics mentioned within. The lyrics are contained in such a way that they do not have to be read - if the reader so desires, they can simply be skipped over and serve as section breaks.

**Cover My Eyes**

* * *

His hand clenches on the armrest, the veins on his forearm standing out in stark relief as four crescent-shaped points of pain blossom on his palm. Nobody notices, concerned as they are with their own work. He takes comfort in that, at least. That nobody can see how his heart is in his eyes as he stares – drinking in the sight, yet hating it at the same time for what it does to him. Dagger-sharp slices of pain cutting him to the quick, pain he gives himself, trying to prove to himself again and again that what he wants he can never have.

The hand brushing the back of her neck tells him so. The head with its long straight ponytail, leaning towards his presence, the smiles shared secretly between the two. It's always been like this, and always will, and he will never have what he wants.

Because she will always have what she wants. And so he cuts himself, watches them to try to rid himself of the dreams he can't stop. The need to have those dark eyes looking at him like that, the wish to have those strong fingers touching him so. But no matter what he tries, he can't stop the longing that has become one with his blood.

"Captain?" comes a voice at his elbow, and he wrenches himself away from the sight with an effort he hopes is not visible.

He smiles, settling his cheerful mask over his face with practiced ease. If he's been lying for two years, he can manage three more. Nobody will ever know how much he hurts, and he would rather have Spock as First then nothing at all.

"What can I do for you, lieutenant?" he asks, slipping into the veneer of confident uncaring captain to hide the pieces of his crumbling heart.

 _No wonder I'm scared  
To look in your eyes  
You've turned me away  
So many times  
You can take it away  
At any given moment  
It's hard to believe  
While you're in this disguise_

He smiles, and it's a real unfettered one this time. Leaning nonchalantly against the bulkhead, he laughs at some comment Spock made. Nobody else understands the Vulcan's humor, not like he does. Not even Uhura, who misses his jokes all the time – not laughing when she's supposed to. And he knows, for he's been watching.

The Vulcan is so close Jim can almost feel the heat that always radiates from his body. The temptation to take just one step closer is almost unbearable but he resists it just the same. It's just another torture he's had to get used to.

And it doesn't hurt so much, not in times like these. When it's just the two of them, and they're talking and the conversation flows as if it's natural and meant to be – nothing can eclipse these. These are the times that Jim lives for, the only moments of his days that he truly feels alive. And he knows how ridiculous that sounds, which is why he hasn't been able to admit it, even to Bones. Whenever he contemplates it, all he hears is the doctor likening him to a lovesick teenage girl, and he doesn't want that.

So he keeps it inside, and smiles. And if, sometimes, his smile changes itself into a goofy little grin – that's just something he can't help. Like now, when he's staring into those dark eyes and so full of – something – he can't hold it in. He comforts himself with the thought that Spock doesn't know what the expression means, anyway.

And he wants. Desperately, as always, he wants. But he can't get what he wants, so he tries something that's worked in the past. Redirecting the desire to simply spending more time in the Vulcan's company.

"Hey, Spock, are you busy tonight? I thought we could finish that chess game," he murmurs, trying to stop the blush he can feel ghosting his cheekbones. The pad of his thumb rubs against the opposite elbow, and his feet shift beneath him. Somewhere, he can hear Bones giggling in malicious joy, whispering _I told you so_.

Silence for a moment, causing him to glance up. "I apologize, Jim, but I have a previous engagement. Perhaps at another time," is the Vulcan's response.

Jim sighs internally, straightening up from his lean against the bulkhead. Tries to console himself with the thought that at least Spock _looks_ genuinely sad to turn him down. Again. It's been three weeks since they've spent any time together outside of a public setting.

It'd worry Jim, but he knows he's been discreet. And it's not as if Spock is acting any differently around him, and the Vulcan still seeks him out in times such as these.

But his question, and Spock's answer, have made things awkward between them. The easy camaraderie disappears, and it's not long before Spock excuses himself and flees.

Jim watches as he walks away, wondering what the strong lines of that back feel like under Nyota's soft hands.

 _So would you hold me please  
I'm trying hard to breathe  
I'm just surviving  
So would you hold me please  
I'm trying hard to breathe  
Stop me from crying_

It's strange, sometimes. He can be in a room full of people, like now. Laughing and joking and playing poker, for all the world appearing completely involved in what's happening around him. But all his attention is really focused on the heated form at his side. In counting Spock's breaths, and watching the play of shadow across his angular face.

"Would you take your turn already," Bones grumbles, expelling a breath of air in a huff. Jim has to hold in a smile at the doctor's attitude – he knows, now. Bones might as well just announce to the whole table that his hand is good; he doesn't get impatient, otherwise.

Reaching forward, intentionally brushing his arm against Spock's on the way – the fifth time he's been able to touch the Vulcan tonight – Jim lays two cards face down in the middle of the table. "Hit me."

Sulu rolls his eyes at the dramatic way Jim does it, but deals him two cards. He doesn't care what the pilot thinks, isn't really paying attention anyway. He's too busy watching Spock from the corner of his eye, seeing the calculations fly past behind the Vulcan's calm veneer. Is too busy making it not-obvious while he stares at Spock's long-fingered hands as the Vulcan places one card on the table.

Gulping, he tries to distract himself by reading Bones – trying to see how good the doctor's hand is. A few more drawn out moves and he's folding, leaning back so he can observe the last interchange from behind the safety of his eyelashes. The two opponents are a study of contrasts – Bones is all tense lines and anxious movement, while Spock…Spock is relaxed, soft lines of happiness around his eyes. Jim wants to reach out and touch the side of his face, try to absorb that emotion the same way the Vulcan could do to him. But he sighs instead, trying to enjoy what little of Spock he gets to treasure to himself.

That is, until a dark form stands up on Spock's other side. A slim hand is placed on his shoulder, and just the sight of it is enough to shatter any good mood Jim was in. His sight of her had been blocked by the Vulcan, and he'd intentionally let himself forget that she existed. And that she was here.

A ponytail swishes to the side as she turns away, murmuring soft words to her love before she leaves. "I'm going to bed." And then a goodbye to the rest of the crew.

One that Jim returns jovially, expecting her to leave by herself. But before she has even taken a step, Spock stands to join her. Biting back the words, the _just stay_ , the demands he has no right – and never will have – to make, he says his goodbyes. If they come out a little more wistful than intended and Bones gives him an odd look in response, well. That can't be helped.

And if he watches Spock walk away, taking Jim's world with him once again, that can't be helped either. He's only so strong.

 _When I see you walking with her  
I have to cover my eyes  
(I have to cover my eyes)  
Every time you leave with her  
Something inside me dies  
(Something inside of me dies)_

It's not hard to maneuver. Not if he puts his mind to it. Spock seemed almost eager to stay after for several moments and talk with him in more detail about the mission ahead.

So he holds his tongue, waiting patiently – or not so patiently – as Uhura comes up to Spock. A touch against his cheek, full lips pressed against his briefly. He should be happy, he should take it as it's meant – a sign that the couple is comfortable enough around him to be open and expressive.

Instead, it feels like the knife in his gut is twisting painfully and all his blood drains away. It _hurts_ , it hurts more than it should. He knows his heart is in his eyes as the dark beauty whispers, "Dinner, my cabin, tonight." One last lingering kiss, and then she's gone.

All thoughts of joking disappear as surely as his cocky mask, as he leans dejected against the conference table. The desperate _need_ within him cries out inside, wanting but never having.

The touch of fire on the inside of his elbow brings him back. "Captain – Jim – are you feeling unwell?"

Shaking himself, Jim tries to ignore the way his name on those lips makes him feel. Tries to push down all those feelings that seeing Spock with Uhura brings to the fore. But they claw their way out, and he feels like screaming as a single word escapes the steel prison he erected around his heart.

"Don't."

He is not even consciously aware of his hand moving, until he is clutching at the Vulcan's sleeve like the weak, ineffectual pathetic thing that he is.

"Excuse me, Captain. Do not do what?" The arm beneath his fingertips stiffens, but now that the one word escaped, it all comes out as a flood of burning water. Nothing good can come of this, and he knows it as he speaks.

"Don't have dinner with her. Have it with me, in my cabin, instead."

As he should have expected, there is confusion. A request for clarification, and even though others would insist there is no emotion in it, he can hear. He's always heard.

He takes one step forward, into Spock's personal space, and – staring into those dark eyes – leans forward. Crushes his lips against the other man's, desperate and hopeful because if this is his one chance he has to take it. Consequences be damned.

But the lips underneath his are like stone, unmoving and cold even though Spock's body temperature would indicate otherwise. Jim shifts away, waiting, his heart in his throat.

"What are you doing, Captain?"

Because there can be no confusion. If Spock is never going to speak to him again, he wants there to be a reason for it. Everything, out in the open so he doesn't have to hide it anymore – so it's not killing him anymore.

Taking one unresponsive hand in his own, Jim twines his fingers through the Vulcan's. "You can feel what I'm feeling when we do this, right? Can you feel this?"

And he opens that cage, rips down the bars of steel he's erected to keep himself safe. And it fills him, the shining blinding overflowing _love_ he feels for this man – for every piece of him. Tries to show it to the Vulcan, whispering in his heart of every single touch, every moment, and all the days he's felt them. His head lowers as he blinks back tears, not ashamed but knowing what the logical conclusion to this is going to be before he even finishes.

He doesn't get to finish. Before he can even truly begin, the hand is physically ripped from his – taking all his warmth with it and leaving him cold, and empty, and so terribly alone.

"I am involved in a romantic relationship with Nyota Uhura. I do not desire one with you, and I request that you never broach this subject again, Captain."

And without waiting for a response, he's gone.

 _No wonder it hurts  
To sit by your side  
(Turned me away so many times)  
There's a different song  
I can play you tonight  
(We don't have to sit here in silence)  
We can break the pattern  
We can change the colour  
(It's just a little sacrifice)  
You don't need to worry about the others  
(It's all in your mind)  
_

He can't bring himself to leave. If he steps outside the door, _they will know_. Not that he expects Spock to tell anyone – the Vulcan is far too private about emotional matters to ever disrespect Jim like that – but because he won't be able to help it. It will be written on his face, in the broken sag of his shoulders and his inability to look anyone in the eye.

Least of all Spock.

And so, as soon as he woke up this morning he contacted Bones. Asked him – no, begged him – to put in any excuse to let him lie in bed all day. And even though he'd been genuinely concerned, Bones had put it through, no questions asked.

He was able to sleep fitfully throughout the day, tossing and turning in his sheets. But even in sleep, he feels the aching chasm that has opened in his chest. And he can't comprehend why he's this…broken. He's been turned down before – not often, but it's happened – it's never felt like this.

Even if Bones asks, Jim doesn't think he can articulate this feeling burning in his blood. The whisper of loss that overwhelms everything else, and he doesn't even understand himself. The only thing he knows is that it feels as if a piece of himself has been ripped away – that he'll never get back.

Pathetic, love-sick teenage girl indeed.

 _So would you hold me please  
I'm trying hard to breathe  
I'm just surviving  
So would you hold me please  
I'm trying hard to breathe  
Stop me from crying_

A week of nights later, and Jim still doesn't feel like himself. The ache has dulled somewhat, but it is still there, still painful and still burning. And even though Bones tried, he couldn't get up enough energy to go drinking on his night off. So he watched his friend leave, and spent his day sulking in his room.

He's been doing that a lot, since. At least Spock hasn't made it awkward to work with him, nor given any indication that anything happened for that matter. But Jim can still tell, because he knows the Vulcan – knows the silence that exists between them whenever the work topics dwindle out.

It hurts, too. But these days, all he does is hurt. He's given up trying to push it away, make it stop. He doesn't know _why_ it aches so much, he just knows he hates it. Because he knows it's never, ever going to happen – and if his head has already given up, why hasn't his heart?

Which is why he's not even able to dredge up the effort to be surprised when Spock shows up at his door. Lets the Vulcan in, scratching at an itch on his chest. He's been lounging around in his sweatpants all day, and he's not going to bother putting on a shirt just because Spock arrived. If the Vulcan has a problem, well – he's the one that came here, not the other way around.

A decision he immediately regrets, as the Vulcan sticks close to the door. Stiff and formal and closed off, Spock exudes his _stay away from me_ aura, and Jim can do nothing but sigh and run his hand through his hair. That Spock would think he'd be stupid enough to approach the Vulcan again.

"What do you want, Spock?" He dredges up the words, even though all he wants to do – especially after seeing Spock's behavior – is tell him to leave him alone. With his silence, and his pain.

"I must speak with you."

Apparently, he still has it in him to snort – as that's what he finds himself doing. "I figured you'd said everything you needed to, the other night."

The look Spock gives him is one of reproach, and he settles back on his heels. The Vulcan let him speak his piece, before – the least he can do is extend Spock the same courtesy.

"Nyota and I are no longer romantically involved. Our relationship was mutually terminated exactly 5.39 days previous."

Stunned, he feels his mouth fall open and he gapes like a fish out of water. He was expecting something, anything but this. And so he asks, the words stumbling, stuttering past his lips in a less than coherent manner.

Instead of answering immediately, the Vulcan takes several steps forward. All of a sudden the room is too small, Jim's personal space is being invaded and he can't breathe. He flinches because Spock is too close, after – but everything in Jim calls for touch, for comfort to ease the burning ache that is now living within him.

So when a smoldering hand reaches out and rests against his cheek he lets go an involuntary whimper. And when that same hand turns his face so blazing lips can brush gently against his, he can forgive himself for that surprise that should have come earlier overwhelming him now. He can't even make his brain work enough to respond to the kiss before it's over, and Spock's lips are no longer on his own.

A forehead bumps against his own, a long-fingered hand stroking the hair at the back of his neck. "Can you forgive me, _t'hy'la_." The words are no more than a whisper, and even though he knows not what they are for – or what they mean – he can't help the tears that threaten at the corner of his eyes.

He gulps, and whimpers the first thought he's able to grasp. "For what?"

"For not realizing what was truth between us in time to avoid causing you unnecessary pain," Spock murmurs, his breath hot as it is expelled against Jim's lips. "There has been a bond created between us."

Soft, tender hands stroke his sides, begging for his attention and understanding even as they serve to distract him from the words Spock is whispering. A confession, stemming from the recognition of something apparently old, and strong – something Spock is amazed he never realized before. The day after Jim made his own confession, Nyota prompted the Vulcan to meditate, citing that he was behaving strangely.

A pause in the words, and Jim can't help but look away. He knows what he was doing that day, what he's been doing every day since. Glancing away from the eyes so close to his own, his gaze strays downward – and he stares at his own hands, knotted in the fabric of Spock's Science blues. The whisper continues even though he's no longer looking in Spock's eyes. He finds it hard to swallow as he's told about the bond, and how it can spontaneously occur when two minds are highly compatible. How Spock could feel his emotions through the bond, as clearly as if his hand was still linked with the Vulcan's.

One of the tender hands leaves his side, rising to brush along his eyebrow, his cheekbone. "And I also could not deny how everything in me was yearning towards the bond, and I cannot deny what I have felt for you before and simply attempted to ignore."

"Can you forgive me, _t'hy'la_." That word again, that request. This time a tear does escape his eyelashes, but it's captured by long beautiful fingers before it can fall. "I came as soon as I could."

He nods as what was within him, that he thought lost, shudders to life once again. Soft lips against his once more, a kiss he returns tentatively and swiftly gains strength – as with each touch, Spock puts the pieces of him back together once again.

 _When I see you walking with her  
I have to cover my eyes  
(I have to cover my eyes)  
Every time you leave with her  
Something inside me dies  
(Something inside of me dies)_


End file.
